


Don't Let Me Ruin Me

by gentlegloom



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlegloom/pseuds/gentlegloom
Summary: Eddie then had to excuse himself to the bathroom for two reasons, the first being a dire need to splash water in his face to rid himself of his flustered expression. The second reason being that despite him being agnostic, he desperately needed to look up at the ceiling and ask God why the fuck he was cursed with being ridiculously into this kind of shit.(Or: Richie comes back from tour and other things come to surface too.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 117





	1. Eddie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> must a story have a definitive and cohesive plot? is it not enough to witness the relentless cycle of pining, yearning, and touching?
> 
> title from “daredevil” by fiona apple

Growling out lyrics from the depths of Fiona Apple’s mind, with a hairbrush in lieu of a mic in one hand, while the other hand is drawing abstract shapes in the condensation on the bathroom mirror, is how Eddie finds Richie after his jog.

It’s only been a few days since Richie returned from his comedy tour. Neither of them wanted to be the first to mention the night before tour, when Eddie drunkenly kissed Richie. Nor did either of them want to be the first to admit that they wanted it to happen again. So, they initially exchanged pleasantries that were far too strained for two people who’ve known each other for as long as they have. Naturally, Richie made a dumb comment about brushing his teeth for the first time in three months and then there was a swift flurry of movement, as all 5 feet and 7 inches of Eddie were dragging Richie into the bathroom. He refused to leave until Richie brushed his teeth for two minutes. After that, they resolved back to their easy banter and rhythm of living together.

Eddie realizes that he’s probably walking in on a private moment, but he’s also been Richie’s friend long enough to know that there isn’t a single ounce of shame in that overgrown, man-child body. He also knows himself well enough to accept the fact that the borderline rude descriptions of Richie that his brain conjures up are really just deflections. One might even say they’re his own personal blend of emotional self-preservation and suppression, artfully fermented to perfection over the past two decades of being in love with his best friend. He knows that whenever he allows himself to view the other man through a non-platonic lens, he’s well and truly fucked. Which is an apt way to describe how he feels right now anyways, taking in the lithe body mere metres away from him. Richie’s body is miles and stretches of alabaster skin, specked with freckles and moles that Eddie aches to trace.

Richie now has both hands on the makeshift microphone and the towel on his hips is riding alarmingly low. There’s a dark trail of hair leading down Richie’s abdomen and Eddie kind of wants to mouth over it. “Seek me out! Look at, look at, look at, look at me! I’m all the fishes in the sea, wake-”

Eddie clears his throat and Richie flails a bit. He angles his body to face him, sighing dramatically at the interruption despite the way his eyes soften at the sight of Eddie in the doorway. Eddie swears he sees Richie’s gaze flicker down to where the hem of Eddie’s shorts cut into the bulk of his thighs.

“Oh, hey, Eds! Want me to start over?”

“You will do no such thing. I value my hearing, you imbecile.” Eddie jabs his finger into Richie’s chest without much thought. His eyes rapidly dart between the way Richie is staring at the point of contact and the way a water droplet leisurely rolls down the divot between his pecs. The moment is broken, as Eddie steps back and remembers the reason he’s there in the first place. “Can you hurry up? I want to shower before we meet the others.”

Richie stares at him blankly. “Dude. The movie starts in like 6 hours.”

“Listen, _dude_. Can you just indulge me?” Eddie’s hands are on his hips now, an early sign of his annoyance that he knows Richie will mock him for later.

Richie holds his hands up in surrender, a small grin still on his lips. He drawls, “As you wish, Eds.”

“Not my fucking name,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, fully aware of the fact that he sounds less and less bothered by the nicknames every time.

He gets a response from Richie, as he’s busy working shampoo into his hair. He almost slips on the wet tile, when he hears the first few bars of “Eddie My Love” by The Chordettes blasting from Richie’s room.

He pulls the shower curtain back and yells out, “Fuck off!”

“Can’t hear you, Eddie my love!” Richie shouts back.

Eddie rolls his eyes, his annoyance dissolving as a layer of pink tints his cheeks at Richie’s antics.

They haven’t even entered the theatre yet, when Bill makes them all stop on the sidewalk and holds a hand up.

“If we’re really settling on a horrible, low brow comedy _movie_ tonight, I dibs sitting beside Eddie since he’s the only one who will make fun of it with me.” Bill emphasizes the word ‘movie’, referring to the dispute he had with Richie years ago. (“Comedies are not films; they are meaningless bits compiled together to make up 90 minutes of barely watchable footage!” Bill had said. “Whatever you say, Billiam. Just make sure you hit me up whenever you’re down on your luck and need someone to compile 30-second long clips of your private _bits_ to launch your pornographic _film_ career!” Richie had replied.)

Bev pats Bill on the back, a shred of sympathy in her tone as she nods in Richie’s direction. “I’m afraid that seat’s already taken, pal.”

Eddie feigns disinterest in the conversation and offers to take a picture of Mike in front of the marquee.

“C’mon, Rich. I love all of you – especially you, Mike! But we both know you’ll start giggling before the movie even starts.”

Mike winks at Bill and Eddie captures the moment on his phone, nodding to himself as he appreciates how unfairly good looking his friend is.

Bill continues, “I just really can’t stand sitting beside anyone other than Eddie during a _comedy._ ” Again, the last word is accompanied by a sour expression.

“That’s fine, I’ll gladly sit with Mike,” Stan says.

Ben claps his hands together excitedly, “Great! Let’s go in now!”

“Uh, excuse me? I get a say in this! Eddie is always my arm rest. Je refuse!” Richie hollers in an overdone French accent.

“Crétin,” Eddie says under his breath, but Richie hears him anyways and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Sexy. Not in front of the kids though, Eds.” Richie purrs.

“I’m pretty sure he called you an idiot?” Bill looks at Mike for affirmation and Mike nods.

“Semantics! Eddie is my best friend and we will take no further questions.” Richie holds a hand up and pretends to block Eddie from Bill, like a body guard shielding their precious cargo from the paparazzi.

“Hold on, Eddie is my best friend too!” Bill remarks.

“I said no further questions!” Richie declares in his best defense lawyer impression. It could use some work, admittedly.

Bev snickers, “That sounded suspiciously Transylvanian, Richie.”

“There’s nothing suspicious about being well-traveled, Ringwald.” Richie sticks his tongue out at the redhead, who simply mirrors the action.

Ben turns to Eddie, amplifying his naturally charm disposition as he says, “Eddie, I just want you to know that as your true best friend, I would never put you in this tense situation.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Eddie winks at him.

Richie squawks, trying to shuffle Eddie away from Ben. “Bev, please control your man. He’s clearly unhinged.”

“Nah, I think he’s cute. Also, I’m really enjoying this battle to be the number one Eddie Kaspbrak fan. Keep it up, boys!” Bev smirks mischievously, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder and delighting in the way Ben’s eyes track the motion.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve been the long-time suffering president of the Eddie Kaspbrak fan club for the past two decades.”

Eddie says, “That was a mouthful.”

At the same time, Stan scoffs. “Then it’s probably about time for a re-election, Tozier.”

As per usual, Richie tunes out the voices of his other friends and focuses on Eddie with a wicked grin. “You want a mouthful? All you have to do is ask, my love! So… where did you want to do this, here or in the bathroom? The sidewalk might be rough on your knees.”

“Beep beep, asshole!” Eddie shoves his shoulder in jest, “Will you shut up already?”

“Make me,” Richie says with a wink, grin stretching impossibly wider.

“How do we reset you back to your factory settings again?” Eddie quips back, hand on his chin as he squints his eyes and scrutinizes Richie like a problem he’s trying to solve.

 _Christ_ , Eddie is so incredibly gone for this fool. 

Richie leans in closer to Eddie, watches as he arches an eyebrow at their proximity and stage whispers, “Is that your way of asking me to take of my clothes for you so you can search me? Go ahead, officer.”

He hears Bill groan at their antics, or maybe it’s Stan, or maybe it’s even Mike, but it’s definitely not Ben or Bev. If anyone gets Richie and Eddie’s weird game of push and pull, it’s probably them. Out of respect for his own mental health, Eddie chooses not to fixate on why the loved up couple is sending them winks and smiling knowingly.

Eddie crosses his arms and misses the way Richie ogles at how his turtleneck stretches across his taut chest. “Cops are gross enough already, why are you trying to make them sound sleazy too?”

“See, that’s the thing, Eds. I’m not even actively trying to be sleazy, it’s just being in your graceful presence always makes me so-”

“Okay, now seems like a good cut-off point! Can we please get some fucking popcorn before the movie starts?” Stan throws his hands up exasperatedly, ushering all of them in.

“Eddie?” Bill tries one more time, resignation already lodged in his voice.

Eddie catches Richie glaring in Bill’s direction and pats Bill on the shoulder apologetically. “Sorry, Billy. No dice.”

Richie’s grip on his waist tightens for a second and Eddie’s teeth dig into his bottom lip to stop him from smiling at the fleeting touch.

Stan turns back to them one last time, wagging a finger in Richie’s face. “If you and Eddie are going to continue with the flirting, please have some decency and pick a spot in the back of the theatre.”

Eddie huffs indignantly, cheeks flushing red as he opens his mouth with every intention of yelling at Stan, but Richie just lets out a loud cackle. The others are already a few paces ahead of them, so Eddie settles for pouting and playfully jabbing his bony elbow into Richie’s side.

Eddie lets Richie lead them to a separate line than their friends — Sue him! He likes any alone time he can get with Richie, alright? — where they get their popcorn and single drink to share, like they always do. Richie insists on paying and places a hand on the small of Eddie’s back — Sue him again! Even though they’ve been to this theatre multiple times, it’s dimly lighted and Richie knows Eddie struggles seeing in the dark sometimes! — as they meet the others at the entrance.

Before the movie even begins, Richie acts like his arms are cramping up and Eddie rolls his eyes knowingly, but grabs his lanky arm and lets it hang around his shoulder.

Richie meets Ben’s eyes over Eddie’s head and they share a quick smile.

After the movie ends, they’re all huddled in the lobby of the theatre, fighting over the movie as they’re known to do. Bill, of all people, is trying to play devil’s advocate for the slimy antagonist and Eddie is telling him why he’s wrong in a firm tone. Hand chopping motions and all. Richie and Mike share amused looks briefly, before Stan tells them all to shut up because Patty is calling him.

Richie pulls a face and Stan just rolls his eyes, waving him off. Richie looks over at Eddie, who is already watching him with amusement quirking his lips upwards. “What?”

Eddie walks over to his side, stealing a sip from the almost empty cup in Richie’s hands. Heat pools in the pit of Richie’s abdomen, at the sight of Eddie’s plush lips curled around the straw. “Can’t just let Stan live, huh?”

“It’s well deserved! Patty and Stan need to get several rooms.” Richie says defensively, looping an arm around him. “They’re gross!”

Eddie makes a rather ineffective show of trying to disentangle himself Richie’s spindly limbs, before eventually settling against his side. He then starts counting on his fingers as he speaks and Richie can’t wipe the smirk off his face, “First of all, not my name, thank you very much. Second of all-”

“Oh, baby, your lists get me so riled up-”

“Second of all,” he emphasizes, “Patty’s not even here, so it’s a family-friendly affair. Third of all, They’re in love, so they’re allowed to be gross.”

Eddie finishes by tugging on Richie’s ear to shut him up. Richie leans into the touch, even though it probably stings a bit. Eddie has always liked being in Richie’s space like this. Closed off from the rest of the world, bodies touching at different points, eyes filled with mirth and only focused on each other.

“I guess we’re downright disgusting then, aren’t we, Eds?” Richie’s voice is light, he even throws in a wink for good measure, probably so that Eddie doesn’t get the wrong idea.

Eddie files any deeper meaning away into the back of his mind and fixes Richie with a somewhat strained smile.

“You wish, Trashmouth.” Eddie says.

Richie falters momentarily, looks like he might say _Yeah, I do, actually!_ for once and mean it. Unfortunately, Stan is now off the phone and asking everyone which restaurant they want to have dinner at. Eddie tries not to frown too much, as Richie’s attention is drawn away from him.

»»»

There was a summer when they were twelve years old that Eddie thinks about all the time. Many things happened that summer, with one specific day turning out sour and aching like an open wound, whenever Eddie reflects back on it. For his own sake, he mostly recalls the good things that happened.

Like the day Richie had put a nickel in a candy dispenser and out came a flimsy, fake gold bracelet. He made sure all of the other losers were paying attention, knelt down on one knee and delicately clasped it around Eddie’s left wrist. Eddie tried to take his hand back the entire time, calling Richie several names and even hissing, which only made the other boy giggle. Richie quickly pressed the whisper of an innocent kiss on Eddie’s inner wrist, flustering him with a surge of adoration.

Now would be the time to act exasperated and push Richie off, Eddie thought. His body betrayed his own mind though, as he felt himself blush and mumble out a ‘thank you’ that only Richie could hear. Richie looked shell-shocked, eyes comically wide behind his coke-bottle glasses. He grinned finally and tapped his fingers twice on the same spot he just kissed.

Eddie wore that bracelet on and off for months. Initially, he only wore it on the days where he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that could conceal it. Then as the days passed, fall succumbing to winter, winter melting into spring, spring blurring into summer, and Richie’s hair growing until it tickled the tops of his sharp shoulders, Eddie grew braver. On the days when he was brave enough to bare his bracelet-adorned wrist to the world, Richie would award him with the special Eddie-reserved smile he had given (and would continue to give) him for years.

It was fond and soft, loving and accepting in a way that had Eddie curling his toes against the sole of his shoes. It was reserved specifically for him and he relished in that fact. He spent years upon years watching Richie toss genuine smiles at all of their friends, but never quite like the one he had for Eddie in their most vulnerable moments.

Eddie always had a skewed understanding of time and space, when Richie was involved. Time always managed to slow down, as other people blended into the background and the only sound he could hear was his own heart yearning for the other boy’s smile. He loved that smile, saccharine and easy. He found himself trying to entrap them both in situations that were worthy of that smile.

In his young mind, he wandered to a dream-like state, another dimension where they were always smiling. In this world, he styled his hair primly, draped himself in the finest fabrics and locked arms with Richie. Together, they asked a faceless waitress to lead them to a secluded table in the back with a single candle and a folded piece of parchment with “Reserved for Eddie and Richie” awaiting them.

At 26 years old, he’s really no different when it comes to craving Richie’s attention. He always sits up a bit straighter whenever there’s someone seated in between him and Richie, so that they can share furtive glances and conspiratorial grins.

Most of the dinners he’s had in his twenties have played out similarly. Stan will tell them about how he’s pretty sure his girlfriend, Patty, is the best person to have ever walked the earth. Bill and Ben will debate something trivial, while Mike and Bev both just laugh amusedly at their respective partners. Richie will laugh too, meet Eddie’s eyes and tilt his head to the side. That special smile upturning his lips almost on cue.

Eddie thinks he usually knows what Richie is trying to convey. It’s typically some kind of variation of _‘please tell me you’re hearing this shit’,_ or _‘can you believe we’re all lucky enough to have each other?_ ’ Eddie always shakes his head in disbelief, waiting for the familiar slowing down of time to unravel. Richie’s gaze never wavers from his once.

»»»

A few days go without a hitch. Eddie gets ready quietly for his early shifts at the hospital, slipping through the apartment carefully because he knows Richie’s still fast asleep.

His shift today is nothing shy of chaotic, but he pushes through and as soon as it’s half past one in the afternoon, he’s speed walking towards their locker rooms. He ignores his coworkers who ask him if he has a hot date to get to immediately, flips them the middle finger in lieu of a proper response. He likes them all a decent amount, but doesn’t like them enough to tell them that he has a life-long, unrequited crush that he wants to spend as much time with, while neither of them are working. He showers quickly, rushing to pull on a pair of light-wash jeans and a threadbare crewneck he’s pretty sure originated in Bill’s closet, before making the rounds through their friend group. He finally turns his phone on for the first time in ten hours, so he can text Richie. He rolls his eyes at the pouty selfies Richie has sent him at drastically different time stamps throughout the morning, but saves them to his gallery anyways.

_Eddie (13:35):_ Hey, I’m off for the day. Late lunch?  
 _Richie (13:36):_ hi eds <3333

 _Richie (13:36):_ i have a meeting with steve but it should be quick. wanna meet there now??  
 _Richie (13:38):_ or i can meet u afterwards if u need time to change from ur sexy nurse scrubs to ur sexy civilian clothes ;)

 _Eddie (13:39):_ Shut up. I’m on my way to Steve’s office now

 _Richie (13:41):_ cool. i’ll give u a head start, short stack

 _Eddie (13:41):_ Also, do you know me at all? I shower and change immediately after every shift  
 _Richie (13:42):_ i’m about to be in public. don’t make me think of u in the shower

 _Eddie (13:43):_ Go fuck yourself

Eddie stares at their text exchange, vaguely aware of the fact that he’s one of those weird people who smiles dumbly at their phones while walking down the street.

_Richie (13:44):_ srry that’s ur mom’s job :/

 _Eddie (13:45):_ That’s really funny. I actually showed that to a few strangers and they’re all laughing now

 _Richie (13:45):_ mock me all u want!!!! i live for this shit

 _Eddie (13:47):_ Ok. See you soon, Rich

 _Richie (13:47):_ ok cutie

They’re in the waiting room of Richie’s manager’s office, both mindlessly scrolling through their phones as they wait for Steve to finish up his last meeting. Richie pauses on a tweet mentioning him.

He nudges Eddie, “Look. I’m a gay icon apparently.”

“That’s sweet,” Eddie’s rests his chin on Richie’s shoulder to see better, eyes cast downward. Richie notes the way his dark eyelashes pose a stark contrast to his delicate skin. Eddie sits back quickly, searing under Richie’s gaze.

“To think that there was ever a time when I didn’t feel the need to say “I’m gay” every five minutes,” Richie sighs dramatically and pretends to clinks his phone against Eddie’s. “Here’s to me finally being loud and proud!”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Because I’ve known you my entire life and can’t remember a time when you were quiet.”

Richie scratches his chin, he’s cleanly shaven and his jawline is… well, it’s a sight and Eddie has eyes. “I mean, I was quiet when I was figuring my shit out, wasn’t I?”

Eddie shoots him a sympathetic look, remembering all the times Richie told him he hated how tedious his journey to self-acceptance was. “Rich, everyone moves at their own pace and handles shit differently.” He slides his foot over, trying to nudge Richie’s foot gently. “You got there eventually.”

“Yeah… True, but I honestly think I was always there and only distanced myself when I realized how homophobic everyone in that shit hole was.” Richie clenches his jaw. It’s easier for him to open up now, but Eddie knows it’s still a sore subject. “If it wasn’t other kids directly, it was their bigoted parents. I mean, if it got back to your mom, or my mom back then…”

“My mom still tells everyone back home I’m just waiting for the right girl, but you know Maggie would never-”

“I know, I know.” Richie grimaces at the mention of Sonia Kaspbrak, nudging Eddie’s foot right back. “I guess I just couldn’t see past my own shame and doubt enough to realize that I got extremely lucky when it came to how loyal the people in my life were.”

“You know it’s not just unconditional loyalty, right? Those people… your mom, our friends, me... Look, we all just love you so much for who you are. I know I give you hell, but it’s because you’re the only one I’ve ever known who takes it and gives it back tenfold.” Eddie stops his babbling to take a deep breath, then laughs at himself. “Sorry.”

Richie huffs, “For what? Being the best fucking friend a shmuck like me could ever want?”

Eddie schools his facial expression into stoic territory. “Hey, don’t call yourself a shmuck. That’s insulting to shmucks.”

“Takes one to know one, cutie.” Richie chuckles, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I care about you too, Eds. Sometimes that’s all I do.”

Eddie ignores the pet names and pretends to peek at Richie’s phone, which is still open on Twitter. “Oh, yeah? Nothing else on your daily schedule?”

“Look, dude, I know you love me and think highly of me-”

“I would like my previous statements redacted. I take it all back-”

Richie raises his voice to drown him out, “But don’t just assume I can read, alright? I only use this device here to look at your selfies.”

“I’ve never sent you a selfie,” Eddie instinctively reaches for his phone to prove himself right.

Richie has a stupid smirk on his lips. “Did you know people can screenshot your Instagram posts?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, kicking Richie’s shin without any real pressure just because he feels like it. “That’s despicable. I’ll write them an email right now-”

“Sexy. Can you show me afterwards?”

“Thought you couldn’t read?”

“I can’t,” Richie affirms sadly. “I just like the shape of the letters, you know?”

Eddie flicks his ear in response and grins at the high-pitched yelp Richie lets out.

There’s a comfortable silence that ensues and they both return back to their phones without another word.

The sound of a news channel playing on the television in the waiting room vaguely registers in Eddie’s ears. Some world renowned neurosurgeon is droning on monotonously about a recent finding.

Eddie’s prods his elbow into Richie’s side, who then follows Eddie’s line of vision back to the TV screen. The neurosurgeon is still going on and on, so he looks back at Eddie for an explanation. “Why didn’t you just suggest that?”

Richie catches on fast, “Well, I was going to, but I didn’t want to intimidate anyone with my scientific prowess.”

Eddie breathes out a laugh, “Right, that’s what happened.”

“Well, they laughed at Einstein so...” Richie trails off with a shrug.

“Is that so?” Eddie says in a challenging tone, soulful brown eyes glinting mischievously under the terrible fluorescent lighting.

“Yes, why does no one ever believe me?” Richie cries out. “I was there!”

“Oh, that I can believe actually.”

“Thank you!”

“Only because you’re so old though,” Eddie clarifies, emboldened further by Richie’s indignant expression. “Richie Tozier, the ancient relic that has found the key to immortality.”

Richie pats him on the knee reassuringly, “Laugh it up, Eds. When you reach my age in five months, I promise you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow.

Richie looks around the empty room, as if he’s making sure the coast is clear and then curls his index finger to gesture for Eddie to come closer. Eddie gives him with an unamused stare and gestures at the fact that they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder already. Richie nods solemnly and speaks in a hushed tone, “Everything.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs, turning his head to the side to hide the smile

“No, it’s Richie,” he giggles.

“Stupid, stupid boy.” Eddie mumbles to himself, returning back to the online crossword game he has going on with Stan.

It’s moments like these where Eddie needs to nip the conversation in the bud, before he does something dumb like admit that he loves their pointless fights an alarming amount.

He remembers the time that Richie and him randomly got into a fight over the merits of al dente pasta at Ben and Bev’s engagement dinner. Richie claimed that in a perfect world, pasta would be soft enough to swallow down without needing to chew at all. Eddie, who had been happily looking at pictures of Mike and Bill’s new pug on Mike’s phone, overheard this and his head snapped up. He heard Stan groan and put his face in his hands, as he realized what was about to happen. Eddie pinched the space between his eyebrows and shut his eyes for a moment, as he figured out the most efficient way to tell Richie to shut the fuck up.

When they reached the point of leaning over Mike to poke and prod at each other during their dispute, Ben loudly declared how happy he was to have his friends all together for a _peaceful_ dinner. Richie and Eddie took this as their cue to stop and awkwardly shrunk back in their seats, extremely aware of the glares Stan was sending their way.

Eddie then had to excuse himself to the bathroom for two reasons, the first being a dire need to splash water in his face to rid himself of his flustered expression. The second reason being that despite him being agnostic, he desperately needed to look up at the ceiling and ask God why the fuck he was cursed with being ridiculously into this kind of shit.

Finally, Richie gets called into his manager’s office and gives Eddie a thumbs up. He hums out an old show tune and only trips over his feet twice on the short walk over.

He’s terrible and foolish. Eddie is still ridiculously into this kind of shit.

Afterwards, they walk around somewhat aimlessly, before winding up at their favourite ramen place. They decide to take their food home and watch trashy reality TV until they pass out.

“I was always upset that Stan got to have you like this first,” Richie says out of nowhere, using chopsticks to shovel noodles into his mouth. They’re sitting cross-legged and shoulder to shoulder, as always, in front of the living room TV.

Eddie definitely isn’t obsessed with how delicate his long fingers look in this particular action. He’s not.

Eddie splutters, “What do you mean?”

“That he got to be your roommate first. He got to see my Eds all high strung after lectures. All angry when his favourite coffee shop on campus closed early that one day. It was before your stats final, remember?” Richie whistles as he sets his takeout box down, loosely crossing his arms behind his head. His arms have taken on a more muscular form over the past years of joining Ben and Mike at the gym a couple times a week. Eddie’s eyes rake over his firm forearms, admiring how they taper slightly at the elbow and lead the way to wider muscles. His eyes stop on Richie’s shoulders, broad and strong. He doesn’t know when shoulders became such a thing for him, but he knows Richie is to blame. He’s felt the weight of Richie’s arm around him countless times in their friendship, always grappled with his urge to nestle back into the touch, since he never wanted to indulge himself in a fantasy for too long. He realizes he’s staring at the same time that he realizes that Richie’s waiting for him to say something.

“You’re ridiculous,” he lets out a small, awkward cough and pretends to suddenly be interested in the stitching on his jeans. “We met up, whenever we both had time. I called and texted you every day, remember?”

“Of course! I never forget anything that involves you!” He shoots Eddie a meaningful look, his arms dropping down in a sheepish shrug as he presses on. “I just mean... I was so excited to finally be away from Derry, with all of my best friends in a new city, and I just... I know it made more sense for the two of you to live together, since you went to the same university and it was close to campus, but I still think it would’ve been better if it was us. We’ve always been different, right?” He purses his lips together, eyebrows stitching closer in thought. “You and I were always the closest — we still are, of course! But I just remember Stan complaining about your habits and quirks and thinking that I wouldn’t have minded at all... I guess I’m just trying to say I always wanted us to live together and I was jealous that Stan got to witness your bed head and grumpy mornings before I did.”

There’s a self-deprecating smile on his face and Eddie rushes to put him at ease.

“You could’ve slept over,” Eddie says without much thought, feeling the weight on his shoulders grow simultaneously heavier and lighter at Richie’s confession.

Richie stares at him oddly, “I thought we outgrew those years ago?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to shrug helplessly, echoing Richie’s previous words. “Well, we _are_ different, right?”

He looks up in time to see the beginnings of a genuine smile on Richie’s lips. They’re silent for a few moments and Eddie grows anxious with the lack of response. He swallows around the lump in his throat and lets his gaze wander to Richie’s mouth again.

He doesn’t know if it’s some weird side-effect of loving Richie an inane amount or maybe a trick of the lighting, but Richie’s lips look painfully inviting. They’re shiny from swigs of beer he’s been taking, alluringly red and wet. Eddie remembers staring at Richie’s lips when they were younger and wanting to kiss him so badly all the time. Right now, he feels the same way.

“I feel like things have been different for a while, Richie…” Eddie trails off, hoping Richie will understand what’s he trying to say. 

Richie inhales a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning in closer, so a ghost of his exhale sweeps against Eddie’s face. Richie tilts his head to the side, eyeing Eddie carefully. Eddie feels the tip of Richie’s nose graze his. They’re so close that he’s going a bit cross-eyed from trying to maintain eye contact.

Richie appears contemplative, like he’s weighing out the pros and cons of his next actions. Eddie’s pulse is racing with how desperately he wants Richie to do something, to finally close the small space between them.

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?” Richie asks.

The sudden change of subject reels Eddie back to reality, grounds him harshly and reminds him that he’s reading this all wrong once again.

He sits back against the couch, self-consciously shift away a bit, since his self-control tells him he needs some distance between them immediately. He looks down at the shirt, which is in fact Richie’s. He wills himself not to blush too noticeably. “Yeah, uh, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Eds. I like you in my clothes.” Richie says easily and the conflict in Eddie builds again. Here Richie goes, being honest and sweet without even realizing that he’s unconsciously leading Eddie to believe that his love isn’t so unrequited.

“Right,” he takes one last swig of his own beer and rises to his feet. He pointedly does not look at Richie and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I’m tired, I’m gonna head to bed now.”

“Dude, it’s not even nine yet.” Richie looks confused.

“I have to be at work super early tomorrow, so. Yeah. Night, Richie.” He lies uncomfortably, feeling guilty when Richie nods at him skeptically. He waves lamely and immediately retreats to his room for the night.

Once he’s inside, he closes the door and leans his back against it. He allows himself a few seconds to wallow in self-pity, before begrudgingly setting an unusually early alarm and lying down in his bed. He absentmindedly fiddles with the worn down collar of the old shirt, breathes in the lingering scent of Richie’s cologne and closes his eyes.

He falls into a brief slumber, woken up by the sound of Richie knocking on his door and timidly asking if he can take him up on that offer for a sleepover. Eddie knows he should say no, but he’s never been one to say no to Richie.

Richie slumps down beside him, pulling the covers over them both neatly. They’re both lying down flat on their backs, faces focused on the ceiling above.

In his peripheral vision, Eddie senses that Richie’s eyes are back on him. The absence of light makes Eddie feel bold enough to speak up.

“Are you ever going to yell at me about the night before your tour?” He asks.

“I don’t yell at you.” When Eddie snorts, Richie amends his claim. “Okay, well not in an angry way at least.”

Eddie persists, “Were you angry about that night?”

“No, no I don’t think so.” Richie flips on his side, clearing his throat as he faces Eddie. “I don’t think I ever felt angry about it. I felt a lot of things, mostly sad because I didn’t even get to say good bye to you the next morning.”

Eddie’s heart sinks at the admission, “I’m sorry. I regretted not seeing you one last time before you were gone for three month, but I was just so embarrassed.” Richie frowns at that, repeating the word ‘embarrassed’ to himself with a huff.

He doesn’t offer anything else, so Eddie presses on. “What else did you feel?”

“Conflicted,” he mumbles.

“Why?”

Richie rolls back onto his back, resting his hand flat on his stomach. “Because I didn’t think we were on the same page.”

Eddie is nervous for the answer, but is worried they’ll never get an opportunity like this again. He pushes himself to ask, “What page are you on?”

There’s no response.

“Richie?”

Richie sighs, running a hand over his face. “Eddie, I’m scared I’m going to say something you don’t want to hear and make things even weirder between us.”

Eddie thinks that this is his worst fear confirmed, Richie admitting that he doesn’t feel the same and didn’t want it to happen. Amidst all of the disorder, he’s still worried about hurting Eddie’s feelings and destroying their friendship. Eddie sighs. He never meant to make Richie uncomfortable. He promised himself that he’d only risk ruining what they have if he was certain there was a chance, yet he messed up everything in his drunken state anyways.

He rolls over onto his left side, facing the wall. He tries to gather his thoughts, but doesn’t know what to say. He wishes he never started this conversation, he’s hates feeling so exposed and hidden at the same time. He keeps his mouth shut and shies away from Richie’s touch, when he feels his hand hovering over his back.

“Eddie?” Richie tries.

“Sorry,” Eddie utters softly. “I think I’m too tired to talk about this right now.”

“Oh, okay.” Richie responds. He’s silent for a beat and then tries again. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, perplexed by Richie’s insistence.

Richie knows him well, knows that Eddie actively tries to avoid humiliation and uncomfortable conversations at all costs. He knows exactly when to stop and back off, and when to keep going.

Eddie decides to trust Richie’s judgment. He decides to cut himself some slack and not assume the worst for once. He decides to allow himself to hope.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees.

There’s a rustling of sheets behind him and then he feels Richie’s toe poke his ankle gently.

“Night, Eds.”

“Night, Rich.”

»»»

Daylight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in golden light. The cool air of Richie’s exhales run through Eddie’s fringe, blowing one of his own curls into his eye. He blinks a few times, enjoying the weight of Richie leg strewn across his hip and the warmth that comes with his own toes resting against Richie’s calves.

Richie’s arms are secured around him tightly, one is beneath his head, serving as a pillow almost. The other is hanging over Eddie’s exposed side, fingers warm against his bare stomach. He tugs his shirt back down, then figures out how to slowly extricate himself from Richie’s hold.

Waking up like this is something that he doesn’t want to get too attached to, especially if Richie sees it as casual and friendly. He’s in the process of getting up, when Richie’s phone starts ringing loudly and startles them both. Richie’s sleepy gaze falls on Eddie first and then trails down to where their bodies are connected. Eddie doesn’t want to look at his face and see disappointment, so he springs up. He hands over Richie’s phone and eyeglasses.

“Thanks,” Richie mumbles, voice rough with sleep as he accepts both items. He squints at the caller ID, before answering the incoming call. “Hey, Steve.”

Eddie is wearing boxers and an old sleeveless top with the arm holes stretched long enough to bare his flank, so he feels subconscious when Richie’s eyes fixate on his waist. He hastily searches for a towel and clean change of clothes, before mouthing ‘shower’ at Richie and running out of the bedroom.

As soon as he’s under the cold spray of the showerhead, he lets out a frustrated groan and rests his head against the nearest wall. In a distant part of his brain, he staves off thoughts about all the bacteria resting there and remembers that he cleaned the shower just a few days ago. He inhales and exhales slowly, trying to reach an even rhythm of breathing.

This whole debacle is driving Eddie absolutely insane with every passing moment that Richie’s back home. He’s back into the vicious cycle of getting close and coming up short. He’s wading in the shallow water, mirroring all of Richie’s whims and impulses, hoping to get further. Without fail, reality forces him back to the edge of the water every single time, and when he looks over to Richie, the other man is already acting like nothing happened, like everything is normal.

Every day, he goes through the motions of living and trying to keep the knowledge of his unwavering crush on his best friend private. Or as private as he can keep such information, when he’s been simultaneously blessed and cursed with friends who see through him so clearly. It’s like they caught him staring at Richie with wonder in his eyes one day when they were kids and automatically knew he was in love. He has never explicitly told him any of them (besides Stan), so it always floods him with a strange mix of embarrassment and relief, whenever he slips up. He tries to be subtle when he hangs out with them individually, but he ultimately ends up mentioning Richie at every possible opportunity.

He sees the sympathetic smiles that Bev and Ben exchange, whenever Richie and Eddie emerge from their intimate bubble. He’s pretty sure Mike knows (and by extension, Bill), since Eddie was only able to feign nonchalance the first hundred times he asked Mike about how he was certain that Bill liked him back. Stan, however, got the most concrete answer back when they were in their first year of living together.

It was years ago, when they were all still in university, except Richie who was forging his path in the world of stand-up. Richie had accepted a date with the guy who got him his most recent successful gig and wouldn’t shut up about it all week in their group chat.

Eddie hadn’t messaged anything in days and cited upcoming exams as an excuse, whenever one of his friends texted him privately. The day of Richie’s date, he sent a picture of himself dressed up and smiling in front of the full length mirror in his room. Eddie remembers staring at the photo for so long he went through a fluster of emotions, before ultimately accepting that he was just sad. Stan found him slumped over and provided him the outlet he needed.

He told Stan about how he was sad that the boy he’d been in love with since he was a kid was going on a date with someone else. He was sad, because throughout growing up in his toxic household and repressive hometown, his friends were the only reasons he held on every day. He loved them all fiercely, cared for them so deeply that their highs and lows were his own as well.

His love for Richie was different though. It always had been. For the longest time as he grappled with his sense of identity and sexuality, he pretended that the extra love he felt was because he met Richie before the rest of them. When he came to terms with the fact that he didn’t need to bear the burden of shame that his mother and the rest of his bigoted small town tried to warn him about, he came to two realizations startlingly fast. One, he was gay. Two, he was in love with Richie.

Despite all the stories he read on the internet about the trials and tribulations of discovering one’s sexuality, he actually felt uncharacteristically relieved and free. It brought him the same sense of calm he felt when he ordered all of the books on his shelf by colour (despite Mike’s insistence that the Dewey Decimal System existed for a reason).

The only thing that disturbed his peace was when he realized that Richie would probably never feel the same. He never wanted to lose the kinship that he had fostered with his favourite person, so he did what he always did to cope.

He compartmentalized his feelings, pushing them into separate boxes and shuffling them to the periphery of his brain. He knew then, and hr certainly knew now, that it was an unhealthy way to handle the situation. But then Richie would ruffle his hair, pinch his cheeks and wink at him in the middle of a long-winded story. Eddie would just sigh, suppress, and take whatever he could get.

Ironically, everything got worse when Richie came out to them a few years after Eddie did. He remembers that particular Saturday evening clearly. He was half-heartedly consoling his upset charades partner, Ben, over the fact that they were both absolutely horrible at the game. He was patting Ben on the back and looking at Bev for help, when Richie suddenly stood up for his turn.

His hair was the longest it had ever been, unruly curls spilling out in front of his glasses and hanging by his collarbones. He was nursing cheap wine in a plastic kid’s cup and stumbled a bit, as he reached for one of the folded slips of paper with different film titles on it.

He unfolded the paper slowly, considered it, and took a long sip of wine. He then looked at all of them, before his eyes locked on Eddie’s. “I’m gay.”

No one moved and Eddie looked around incredulously, confused as to why no one was calling him out on breaking the rules.

“No talking, asshole! That’s literally the main rule. Also, what the fuck does the paper even say? There’s no films or books titled that!” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, glaring daggers at all of his friends who were currently holding back laughter. “Why are you all laughing?” He turns back to Richie. “Was it fucking Brokeback Mountain? You’re so one-track minded, it was a good movie and that’s all you get from it? This is so unfair. Ben and I each lose a turn for allegedly cheating — which, I’m still mad at you guys for by the way! Neither of us would ever violate sacred rules on purpose! — yet this doofus decides to just say-”

Stan takes pity on him and interjects, “Eddie, I’m pretty sure Richie just came out.”

“Oh.” Eddie gulped, his throat now dry and constricted.

“And with that, cheers to Richie!” Mike saved the moment graciously, wrapping Richie up in a hug, with the others following his lead enthusiastically.

Eddie got to Richie last, feeling mortified and rushing to pull him into a sorry embrace.

“Rich, I’m so sorry, you know how competitive I get and… and whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m just so proud of you and I love you, dude.” He rambled in a low voice, intending for only Richie to hear. He allowed himself a couple of seconds of brushing his nose against the nape of Richie’s neck and basking in the feel of their chests pressed tight.

Richie giggled, reaching down to play with one of the curls by the crown of Eddie’s head. He dusted a close-mouthed peck on Eddie’s flushed cheek and said, “Stop apologizing, it was funny. Best moment of my life and I’m never gonna let you forget it.” Eddie groaned, a protest already on the tip of his lips, but Richie just laughed and shushed him. “Shh. I love you too, cutie.”

“Don’t call me that, dickhead.” Eddie flicked his ear in retaliation. He only felt slightly embarrassed by the way he immediately missed Richie, when the taller boy backed away and told everyone to sit down so he could nail the actual charade prompt.

He sat back down and tried not to laugh as Richie attempted to act out the plot of _Suspiria_. His eyes tracked every wild movement of Richie’s lanky limbs, the quirks of his brows, and the growing impatience in his eyes as he waited for Bev to guess correctly.

In between painful impressions and late night ramblings, Eddie felt a sense of dread overtake the previous wave of serenity he had been riding on. He finally processed the fact that Richie was gay and if he was ever to return Eddie’s feelings, he probably would have said something by now.

All he could do was be there for his friend and continue to pretend that he only loved Richie in the most platonic sense. He always thought that if he could convince Richie, maybe he could convince himself too.

Now, they’ve known each other for two entire decades, they’ve lived together for almost five years, and the only thing that Eddie has convinced himself is that he’s never going to love anyone else like this.

He stares at himself pathetically in the mirror, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and panic written all over his face. He pads back over to the doorway of his room and looks at Richie.

Even though he’s a few years older, he’s still the same person Eddie has spent most of his life wanting to be near. He’s still the same kid who made fun of Eddie relentlessly, but would yell at anyone else who tried to poke fun at him. He’s still the same teen that would spend hours making him mixed tapes and sneaking into Eddie’s room when his mother wouldn’t let him go outside. He’s still the same person who held Eddie and told him everything was going to be okay, when he was stressed about switching from business to nursing in the middle of his second year.

He’s here now and he’s changed so much, but he’s still the same.

Eddie pulls his change of clothes on, decides to let his hair air dry and pauses in the hallway. He can see Richie, still splayed out on _his_ bed and maybe Eddie’s imagining things, but he looks like he belongs there.

He’s wearing Superman boxers and gesticulating wildly, as he laughs on the phone with his manager. Eddie looks at him, and he loves him, and he’s afraid to lose him. Their eyes find each other like clockwork, Richie’s face lighting up immediately. His hair is just hovering above his shoulders now, slightly curled at the ends. His glasses are slightly skewed, eyes still softened from his sleep. His prominent collarbones peek out from the ripped collar of his old t-shirt, taunting Eddie.

Eddie wants to crawl into his space, sit in his lap, and intertwine their fingers together lazily, as he waits for Richie to finish his call. He wants Richie to want him with no restraint. He wants Richie to kiss him hungrily, leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses from his chest up to his jaw, idling at his mouth just to see him pout, before he finally leans in and kisses him on the lips.

Instead, Eddie just mimes rinsing his mouth out and runs back into the bathroom, before Richie can so much as nod back. He stares at himself in the mirror once more, resolving that he needs to sort this shit out already. He figures he’ll call Mike for a pep talk and then come clean to Richie.

He’s been trying so hard not to ruin things. He’s just not sure he can last any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it feels like they go in & out of serious talks too fast.. sorry but i believe that richie & eddie exist in a delicious bubble of both sincerity & light-heartedness that the rest of the world is just not privy to
> 
> good for them!!!!


	2. Richie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's about the ear flicking and shoulder nudging

“Richie? You still with me, bud?” Steve asks patiently, shaking Richie out of his Eddie-centric reverie.

Steve is a kind man, firm when needed, but genuine and willing to help whenever Richie finds himself in less than favourable situations. For that reason, he’s indulging Steve’s early phone call and has reluctantly agreed to a last minute set at a comedy roast. It’s for some other comedian he’s only talked to once in his life, he’s pretty sure they just shared a joint in silence. Richie throws his head back in exasperation, itching with the need to end this phone call already and check on Eddie.

When he woke up, he had a passing rush of happiness at the intimacy of Eddie’s limbs tangled with his own. That moment shifted for the worse when he noticed how tense Eddie was.

He knew he messed up last night when he shied away from the moment they had, but he just wanted to be 100% ready for when he confessed to Eddie. He wanted to feel confident enough to declare it out loud, to look Eddie in the eye and be completely unapologetic, as he (potentially) jeopardized their years of friendship.

After seeing how eager Eddie was to leave and how nonchalant he was acting this morning, he feels set back. He worries there’s going to be no mention of the previous night again and they’ll both just act casually.

There is nothing more that Richie Tozier loves than a chase and slow burn, especially when the other person is worth it. But he’s so incredibly tired of this song and dance.

Despite his mind having ventured off elsewhere while Steve was talking, Richie somehow musters up enough energy to half-heartedly respond. “Sir, yes, sir!”

“What accent was that supposed to be?” Steve mutters to himself, “Never mind, don’t answer that. Work on it though! I’m sure you’re on to something.”

“No, I’ll scrap it.” Richie answers curtly.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” Steve admonishes him. “Anyways, I’ll have my assistant send you the flight details later. And if you can pop in whenever you have a chance to sign that paperwork Netflix just sent over, I’d appreciate it.”

Richie ventures out of Eddie’s room, lazily scratching at his stomach. He spots Eddie in the middle of tying his shoe laces and realizes that his shift starts in less than an hour.

He frowns at the realization that since he’s most likely flying out tomorrow morning, he has a narrow window for his love confession. He wants to finish their conversation from last night urgently, but knows he should wait. Eddie probably wouldn’t appreciate having Richie unload his years of pining on him just a few minutes before his shift.

He subconsciously stresses that Eddie will take Richie’s last minute gig as an excuse to postpone their conversation and then act like nothing happened when he comes back. To be fair, that has been his go-to. albeit cowardly move.

He dashes back into his room to change into the first set of decent clothes he can find. He almost falls over as he tries to pull on a pair of grey joggers at the same as he gets his head through a threadbare t-shirt. It says ‘Bottom Rights’ in cursive and he’s pretty sure it was a gift from a fan. “I’ll just come right now, Steve.”

“Perfect! See you.”

Richie hangs up and heads back into the living room, just as Eddie is tying one last knot. “Hey.”

Eddie straightens back up at the sound, noticeably clearing his throat as his eyes fall on Richie’s legs. “Uh, hi. Where are you going?”

“I thought I could walk you to the station?” It comes out as a question.

“Oh, sure.” Eddie nods. “Please put a coat on though.”

“Why? Worried I’ll have people fawning over these bad boys?” Richie teases, kissing his own bicep.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s cold, asshole.”

They settle into an amiable silence as they walk down the street, but Richie knows he has limited time with Eddie today, so he speaks first.

“So...”

He doesn’t elaborate first, so Eddie prompts him, “So?”

“The weather.”

“What fucking about it?” Eddie scrunches his nose at him, looking far more adorable than he should be allowed to.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” Richie holds his hands up in mock surrender. He tries again. “So, I have to fly out to L.A. for the weekend. Steve asked me to fill in for someone who backed out of this celebrity roast...” Eddie doesn’t say anything, so he barrels on just to fill the silence. “It’ll be trashy. I mean, roasts are usually trashy, right? Kind of my specialty. I barely even know the guy, so I’m planning on making up some extremely specific and inaccurate shit to get on his case about. Might even make it my goal to get escorted off the stage, if it feels right.”

“Don’t do that. Maybe just try to be funny for once?” Eddie suggests innocently, although there’s an unreadable expression on his face.

Richie wants to kick himself for agreeing to leave, when he should really just be figuring this shit out like an adult today.

He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened last time, or the countless times before. He wants to be brave, he wants to finally chase after what he wants and Eddie has always been what he’s wanted since he was a closeted kid growing up in a repressive small town. He wants to just stop in his tracks already and kiss Eddie speechless.

Now is not the time though and he knows that. He’s waited this long and can’t afford to do this sloppily. Eddie Kaspbrak deserves pride and certainty, flowers and wine. Richie wants to get it right.

There’s been so many instances where Richie thought Eddie might actually like him back, but stopped himself because he didn’t think it was really possible. The fact that Eddie never said anything helped him convince himself that he was doing the right thing by being quiet for once.

He decides to get one of his friends to hype him up enough so he can be ready to bare his chest when Eddie gets off work.

“Gee, why have I never thought about that?” Richie pretends to consider it.

“I’m pretty sure Dr. Frankenstein ran out of time to program that into your settings.” Eddie explains. “Also, don’t worry about thanking me. It’s what I’m here for.”

They share a smile and then come to a stop at the stairs leading down to the subway.

“So...” Eddie says through pursed lips, looking down at his shoes.

Richie lifts his chin up, lightly dragging his thumb over the concave dip of Eddie’s cheekbones. “So?”

Eddie leans into the touch, “When are you back?”

Richie taps the highest point of his cheekbone once before pulling back, “In like... two days. I think.”

“Cool.” Eddie’s voice sounds strained. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“I haven’t packed yet, so I sure hope so,” Richie answers.

“Is there anything you know for certain?” Eddie chides.

Richie lets out a startled laugh, willing himself not to blow this right now. He shrugs lamely, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Eddie shoves his shoulder playfully.

Richie shoves him back, “When are you done today?”

“At six,” Eddie pauses, fighting back a grin as he tacks on, “I think.”

“Ha ha ha. Hilarious. Maybe you should be the comedian?” Richie deadpans.

Eddie nods enthusiastically, “That’s what I’ve been saying all along. I’m glad you’re finally catching on.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll put in a good word for you... So, uh... Do you think we could talk when you come home?” Richie asks the last part timidly.

“We always talk,” Eddie points out unhelpfully.

“No, I mean about last night,” he clarifies.

Eddie eyes widen and he exhales a shaky breath, “God. Fuck. I knew I made things awkward by bringing that up-”

“No, no, you didn’t!” Richie promises. “I just think it’s time to talk about this, you know?”

“This...” Eddie echoes.

“Us, Eddie.” Richie says pleadingly.

Eddie takes a long look at him, before nodding acceptingly. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

“Okay.” Richie nods back, still craving some reassurance. “We’re good, right?”

Eddie looks sheepish or maybe uncertain, when he replies, “You tell me, Rich.”

Richie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, but before he can ask what that means, his arms are full of Eddie.

Eddie, who is warm and soft, even if he claims not to be. His face is buried in Richie’s neck, arms grasping him tight. Richie secures one arm all the way around Eddie’s waist, the other hand reaches upward to rub circles into his back.

“Have a safe flight, Rich.” Eddie mumbles, before he’s pulling back and walking down the steps without another word.

»»»

There have been so many close calls between them that Richie probably should have lost count by now, but he always commits anything involving Eddie to memory. His memory never betrays him when it comes to categorizing every moment spent together and every intricate detail of their interactions. He remembers every scraped knee, hammock argument, and spontaneous sleepover. He remembers their poor scheming to get Ben and Bev together during middle school, giggling at each other and thinking their two friends were so oblivious. He remembers every time they supported each other on new adventures, or consoled each other after a breakup (even though neither of them were ever that upset). He remembers inventing their own language out of the inside jokes and sorrows that they only shared with each other.

He remembers the first time he realized that they had their own way of communicating, he remembers when it became customary for Richie to push and Eddie to pull. When he’d squeeze Eddie’s cheeks, just so Eddie could nudge him in the side or tug on his ear. He remembers thinking that he could never have this with anyone else and he would never want it with anyone else.

It was a nice, liberating type of revelation in the beginning, one that encouraged him to keep going. He amped up his theatrics around Eddie and was delighted when the other boy responded how he thought he would. He also found himself just as happy when Eddie did something “off-script”, because it reminded him that they were constantly evolving and adapting together.

He also remembers the rainy day he slipped into Eddie’s room, when they were twelve years old. They had been friends for a few years by that point, already in tune with each other and protective over what they had built.

He was excited to see Eddie that day, since he missed him earnestly when he didn’t show up at the quarry earlier. He didn’t even care if they didn’t end up doing anything fun, he was okay if it was just an afternoon of reading comics while sitting on the bed cross-legged and sharing a bag of pretzels.

Then Eddie surprised him by telling him about how he almost had his first kiss and ran away because he didn’t want it. He didn’t like the girl like that, he had confessed timidly. He fiddled around with his fanny pack, before mumbling about how he might like kissing more if it was with a boy.

Richie didn’t know how to react. There was a sense of relief at the discovery that he and Eddie were the same, even if he didn’t quite know the term for it yet. His relief was short-lived though, when he watched Eddie nervously bite into a pretzel and avert his eyes as if he was waiting for Richie to mock him any second now. He saw the way Eddie’s fingers were shaking slightly and reached out to steady him, never wanting to be the reason Eddie felt uneasy or unloved.

He wondered if Eddie wanted him to be the boy for him. He eyed the grain of salt resting on Eddie’s cupid’s bow, the way his lips were slightly asymmetrical, a beautiful shade of pink that blended out into the summery glow of his skin. He leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I try something?”

Eddie nodded quickly, doe-eyed and fixated on Richie.

Richie inched forward, eyes shut, as he let their lips brush for a few blissful seconds. He leaned back reluctantly, when Eddie tried to kiss him again.

It was an innocent kiss between friends, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. But he felt like the world was caving in on him for allowing himself to do that.

“Richie, look at me.” Eddie spoke lightly, interlocking their salty fingers together.

Richie fought back a whimper, squeezed Eddie’s hand back, and slowly opened his eyes. He worried that he went too far this time.

“Do you... Do you also like-” Eddie stuttered through his sentence, barely comprehendible but it didn’t matter. Richie didn’t hear him anyways. All he heard were the voices of bullies and the voice of his own inner fear that his parents would dislike him more, if they ever found out.

With regret and misery weighing down on him, he cut Eddie off with the first of many lies.

“I’m just helping out a friend!” Richie declared. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya, Eddie Spaghetti.”

His attempt at sounding unbothered sounded fake even to his own ears, so he didn’t risk a glance at Eddie. He simply pulled his hand back, hastily swapped the comic books in their laps and change the subject.

He remembers feeling like a coward the whole time and every other time that followed.

»»»

His meeting with Steve ends up lasting a few hours, since he has nowhere to be for a while and feels a bit restless. They get the tedious paperwork out of the way and then Richie tells him about all of his new ideas for his next tour. When Steve asks him if he’s planning on bringing anyone special along with him, he gnaws on his bottom lip apprehensively.

He ultimately says ‘yes’ and wonders how the fuck his manager managed to figure him out. Steve sees him trying to internally connect the dots and chuckles. He claims that he saw their ‘weird little mating ritual thing’ going on the other day and decided to stall before letting Richie into his office.

Richie kindly asks Steve to stop perceiving him so accurately, but internally delights in the idea that other people see it too.

When he steps out of the building, he decides to walk back to his apartment instead of calling a cab or taking the train. It’s a short distance, he reasons.

There’s also the fact that he wants to call one of his friends to talk him through this next stage and even though he’s not wildly famous, he doesn’t feel like baring his soul for everyone to hear.

He goes through his contact list and snorts at the fact that he literally had four out of his six friends to choose from. Ben, Bev, Mike, and Bill also went through the same experience of growing up with insufferable crushes on their best friends. The only difference being that they were actually successful, whereas Richie is just now trying to bite the bullet. He wonders if there’s a joke there that he can use for his next set.

He’s climbing the stairs to his apartment and still contemplating on which friend to call, when his phone lights up with Mike’s contact photo. He awkwardly cradles his phone between his shoulder and ear, as he struggles with unlocking the front door.

“Mikey! Just the man I wanted to talk to!”

“Hey, Richie. What a coincidence.” Mike chuckles on the other line, “Is it alright if I go first though?”

“Of course, beauty before age, right?” Richie says in a strained voice as he does a quick run around the apartment to confirm that Eddie’s not home yet. He plants himself down on the couch with a sigh.

“That’s not how it goes, but you’ve always been an original,” Mike offers.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, so go ahead. Ask me for all of my vital organs and they’ll be on your door step within the hour.”

“While I appreciate your undying – or I guess dying? – loyalty for me, I’ll take a rain check. Maybe next time though,” Mike continues in a less pleasant voice. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m graciously filling in as Bill’s receptionist today and I am losing it. Please just give me some good news and tell me you already received a copy of the new book.”

Richie laughs and eyes the coffee table that currently holds two copies belonging to him and Eddie. When it arrived, he read the first few pages, then got bored and skipped to the back to draw a mustache on Bill’s author photo. Eddie’s copy, however, is stuffed with post-it notes and there’s a leather bookmark nestled more than halfway through. Richie is kind of endeared by the juxtaposition and belatedly remembers that he was just asked a question.

“Oops, sorry, Mike! Zoned out for a bit, but yeah, Eddie and I both got our copies. His book is... well, it’s here. In our home. I was actually planning to read it... um, again! Since I obviously already read it once.” Richie drags his palm over his face after stumbling over his last few words.

He suddenly regrets all of the improv classes that he spent time and money on. He should’ve just went over to Eddie’s apartment and continued to pretend to not be in love with him, that would’ve been an equally stimulating acting exercise.

“Obviously you read it already,” Mike says sarcastically.

“Obviously,” Richie parrots back, before not so subtly transitioning to his desired subject. “So, you know how I’ve in love with Eddie for almost 20 years?”

To his credit, Mike doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes? What about it?”

“Say I wanted to do something about it soon, would you-”

“Oh my fucking God!” Mike shouts. Scratch that, Mike gets no credit. “It’s happening. Bill! Bill, sweetie, come over, it’s happening!”

“No, what? No, Bill! Tell him to stay wherever the fuck he is.” Richie face palms, whining petulantly. “I come to you in my time of need, Mikey! You and you alone.”

“Actually, I called you first,” Mike points out.

Richie is mere seconds away from throwing his phone out the window, so he says as much, “Mike, I am mere seconds away from throwing my phone out the window.”

“Nah, don’t do that,” Mike advises. “How else will you call me to say thanks before you and Eddie ride off into the sunset?”

“Carrier pigeon?” Richie half-heartedly jokes, before his mind catches up with Mike’s words and he sits upright abruptly. “Wait, you think it’ll work out?”

Mike laughs not unkindly, “You and Eddie? Of course. No doubt.”

“Really?” His voice comes out meek and in need of reassurance.

A small, often ignored part of Richie’s psyche has always wanted to believe that Eddie loves him back. But he’s always been plagued with the worry that he’s reading the signs all wrong and is going to fuck up the best thing he’s ever had going for him. He’s seen so many opportunities and openings over the years, but he and Eddie never got it right. It began to feel intentional.

Richie reflects on this morning, still feels a bit uneasy about the mortified look on Eddie’s face when he woke up in Richie’s arms. Then he remembers seeing Eddie come out of the shower in his peripheral, the way he had stopped outside of the bedroom, simply watching Richie with that special smile of his.

“Yes, really.” Mike confirms. “You guys are a sure thing. I’ve always known it and I’m sure anyone who has seen you two together for even a minute knows it too.”

The confidence in Mike’s voice, paired with Steve’s observation from earlier, soothes his nerves enough for him to decide that he’s ready.

“Thanks, man.” He says sincerely.

Mike sounds fond on the other line, “Of course, Richie. Hey, you know you don’t owe me an explanation and I know from personal experience that this is not an easy thing to do, but I’m kind of curious here...”  
“Go on. Begin your excavation into my mind. Just a warning that it’s less _Spring Breakers_ and more _Friday The 13 th_ in here.”

“I don’t think that analogy really works, but I respect it.” Mike replies smoothly. “I’m not trying to be judgmental or anything, but I guess I’ve just always wondered what was holding you back?”  
Richie’s shoulder slump, as he tries to put his doubts into words that don’t make him sound so self-deprecating.

Mike interjects, “I wasn’t kidding when I said that anyone can see that what you two have is special, Richie. Hell, I’ve even witnessed moments between you two that seemed so intimate, I left the room because I was so sure it was going to happen.”

“I don’t even know how to explain it, Mike. I think we just fell into this game of tug of war with each other when we were kids and we’ve been evenly matched until recently. I mean, not that my feelings are recent or anything-” Mike snorts at that and Richie guffaws. “Hey! Shut up, this is my therapy session. Look, I _know_ it’s not just me who’s been pulling harder than usual lately. I know things have been different, but it’s always seemed so impossible and like such a big risk to take.” He sighs into the receiver, “Last night, I slept in his bed – no funny business, don’t worry, I’m an honest lady! But I was so excited when I woke up with him and he just looked like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That’s not a rejection though, Richie. Maybe he was nervous too,” Mike offers kindly.

Richie nods, even though Mike can’t see him. “Maybe not, but it happens all the time and makes me feel like I’m back at square one. We talk all the time, but never about this. It’s weird because he’s the easiest person for me to talk to, but I always freeze up because I’m scared I’ll go too far and he’ll hate me.”

“Richie, it’s not my place to say anything, but I really think you need to talk to Eddie. For polar opposites, you two have alarmingly similar perspectives,” Mike says so confidently that Richie wonders if he’s spoken to Eddie. “Plus you have to know that he would never hate you. He would sooner give up on basic hygiene than he’d give up on you.”

“God, that’s kind of romantic,” Richie chuckles. “I really think you should resign as Bill’s emergency receptionist. You should be the writer in the relationship.”

Mike laughs, “I cannot wait to tell him you said that.”

“Do your worst, Hanlon.” Richie teases. His voice slips into something a bit more vulnerable, as he asks. “Wish me luck for tonight?”

“You don’t need it! Just remember to report back later,” Mike reminds him.

They exchange goodbyes and promises to grab dinner sometime next week, before hanging up. Richie takes off his glasses and runs a hand over his face, he inhales deeply and steels himself for what’s to come.

His phone then beeps with a new message from Steve’s assistant, it’s a screenshot of the details for his flight. As per the universe’s usual goal to fuck with Richie’s plans, the flight is scheduled for tonight.

Richie throws his head back in despair, “Fuck me, I guess.”

He checks the time on his phone and can’t believe how close he’s cutting it. He almost wants to take it as a sign to wait it out a bit longer, but his nerves are eating away at him with every moment that drags on without Eddie knowing he’s painstakingly in love with him.

In between packing and making sure everything is in order, he sends texts to Eddie.

_Richie (16:40):_ Eddieeeeeee any chance u can get off early 

_Richie (17:10):_ soooo that flight to LA?? it’s actually tonight

 _Richie (17:30):_ i’m heading to the airport in an hour :(

 _Richie (17:58):_ i’m sorry eds. i feel like we keep getting interrupted.... idk. i’m just sorry.

 _Richie (18:25):_ i’m in a cab now. the driver looks freakishly like our third grade teacher ???

 _Richie (18:27):_ that’s not important idk why i sent that

 _Richie (18:30):_ maybe i’m overreacting but i really hope u r not upset. i promise i’m not trying to avoid u

 _Richie (18:36):_ i want us to talk still. i want us to be good

 _Richie (18:36):_ not that we’re not already good !!!!!

 _Richie (18:36):_ i mean we’re the best !

 _Richie (18:37):_ we’re kind of a dream team??

“What the fuck am I even saying?” Richie mutters to himself, as he enters the airport and looks for the right line.

By the time he’s seated on the plane, he still doesn’t have a response from Eddie and worries that he said the wrong thing. Or many wrong things, he grimaces as he scrolls through all the nonsense he sent Eddie. He shoots off one last text, before putting his phone on airplane mode (which he vehemently doesn’t believe in, but Eddie called him a _man with no morals_ because of it once and now he feels obligated).

_Richie (19:18):_ we’ll try again later.

 _Richie (19:20):_ anyways let me know when u get home safe pls <3

_Eddie (19:31):_ It’s okay. I got tied up at work and then my train was late.

 _Eddie (19:44):_ Your phone better be on airplane mode BTW.

 _Eddie (20:35):_ Good luck with everything

»»»

When they were in high school, they spent many late nights whispering into the darkness. Honesty came easier to both of them in the obscurity and anonymity of the smallest hours.

Eddie was Richie’s favourite boy any day of the week, but there was something about this side of Eddie that amazed him. It was usually the words leaving his mouth, but sometimes it was just the way Eddie looked. Sometimes, Richie allowed himself to admire Eddie without feeling self-conscious or like he needed to make a joke about it when he got caught.

They had an unspoken rule of lying flat on their backs when they had their late night talks, but Richie often couldn’t help but prop himself up one elbow and marvel at the way the moonlight blanketed Eddie’s profile so delicately. He was listening, of course, but he was also just taking in the smaller boy’s features. The angles of his face, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips.

He hated a lot of things about growing up, but Eddie was never one of them. He always felt so lucky to get to witness the subtle changes in the other boy, the sharpening of his jaw, the hollowing of his cheeks, the extra smattering of freckles across his nose in the summer.

Eddie never reprimanded him, never questioned him, never asked him to lay back down.

Richie hesitated to voice a lot of the things he thought about, always tried his best to keep his wants and desires subdued, hidden from his surface. He never wanted to hide Eddie though, so he was always vocal about how beautiful he thought he was and how much he adored him.

He always overplayed it just slightly so no one would read into it too much, simply assuming that that he was joking. Eventually the compliments and pet names became their own dialect in the language he was cultivating with Eddie. There was something about the way the other boy always blushed that made Richie think Eddie knew what he was doing. He thinks that’s why Eddie never sounded like he meant it, when he told Richie he hated the nicknames.

Among the ramblings and hypotheticals, there were serious talks too. They loved dreaming about what they’d do after they left Derry for good. Eddie always looked his most vulnerable and candid, when he planned out his life for when he finally escaped his mother’s iron-fist grip. He told Richie that he knew exactly what he needed in a future partner. Partner, he had always emphasized.

He started using gender neutral terms after their kiss and Richie felt a pang of guilt each time. He didn’t want Eddie to think that he didn’t accept him, but he also wasn’t ready to say _‘me too, Eddie. I’m the same!’_

Eddie confessed that he was positive he needed someone brand new, someone who didn’t know the past versions of him and met him when he had his shit together. He was convinced that no one would ever be able to love his grittier parts, neuroses, and oddities.

Those were the only times that Richie would slump back down and peel his eyes away from Eddie. He learned to deal with the dejection sprouting inside of him alone. He’d simply make a noise of agreement, but internally thank the darkness for shielding his forlorn expression from Eddie. He’d turn on his side and desperately wonder what was so wrong with him.

Here he was, someone who knew all of Eddie’s curves and dips, flaws and compulsions, and didn’t love him any less. He loved Eddie unequivocally. He was already filled to the brim with love and admiration, but somehow managed to fall deeper every time Eddie so much as winked at him.

In return, Eddie saw all of his blemishes and failings, and never once penalized him for it. Yet, Eddie was insistent that he needed someone new, someone untainted. Probably someone braver than Richie.

So he learned to cherish the way their legs found each other in the night, the way Eddie didn’t bat an eyelash when he wrapped his hand around his ankle and swiped his thumb against the bone there, the way there always seemed to be a need for them to touch. He learned to accept the fact that he probably missed his opportunity when he retreated back into his shell after their first kiss.

»»»

Richie is certain he’s about to get whiplash from the amount of times he’s vehemently shook his head no. He might even commit murder if one more person asks him if he’s going to the after party. He shakes hands and poses with the right people until the last person gets off stage, and then he’s racing towards the first exit he can find.

The roast actually went relatively well and he preened at the hearty laughs he earned, but he was also distracted. He was desperate to go back home to Eddie.

His Uber driver nods at him, but doesn’t engage with him otherwise. He checks the time and decides to try his luck, even though it’s four in the morning back in New York.

_Richie (01:09):_ hiiii

He’s in the middle of typing when his phone chimes with an incoming call from Eddie.

“Eddie!” He says gleefully.

“It is four in the fucking morning,” Eddie complains.

Richie grimaces, “Oops, sorry. I just got done at the roast and you were the first person I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause and then he hears Eddie rustle around, probably sitting up against the headboard. “That’s actually kind of nice.”

“That’s me. I’m.... nice.” Richie says lamely.

“Not to me,” Eddie mumbles into the receiver.

“Especially to you,” Richie corrects him.

Eddie yawns, a dreamy, soft sound. “Then be super nice to me and come home.”

Hearing Eddie refer to their apartment as home and suggesting that he misses Richie’s in the same breath is both deeply soothing and thrilling.

“Tomorrow,” he promises.

Eddie accepts this, humming his approval. “First thing in the morning, right?”

“Not quite,” Richie chuckles. “I have a couple of radio interviews and then my flight is a few hours after.”

“Alright,” Eddie agrees. “I’ll allow it.”

Sleepy Eddie is Richie’s favourite person. Let that be known.

“Thanks, cutie,” he smiles to himself and finally decides that he’s kept Eddie awake for too long. “I’m at my hotel, so I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

The car pulls to a stop and Richie steps out, thanking the driver and ambling up the pathway to the hotel.

“Do you even remember which room you’re staying in?” Eddie asks.

“You’re cute when you worry about me,” Richie quips as he enters the elevator.

“Shut up,” Eddie yawns again, stretching out the words. Richie wishes he was lying down beside him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his own. “Did you find it?”

Richie lets out his own yawn and feels the need for sleep hit him. He’s not even thinking, as he struggles to swipe the room key properly. “Yeah, baby. I’m here now.”

He’s just kicking off his shoes in the doorway, when he becomes aware of the pause in conversation. Typically, he would play it off by adding another term of endearment and making a stupid joke, but he forces himself not to this time.

“Okay,” Eddie says finally, no trace of annoyance in his tone. “Night, Rich.”

“Night, Eds.”

»»»

The night it all came together for a few seconds before unravelling just as rapidly was the night just before Richie was set to embark on tour for three months. Up until that point, nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d wake up, work on some new material, attend meetings, go out with his friends, and ache for Eddie, who was always within arm’s reach.

He attempted to convince himself it might actually benefit him to be physically away from Eddie for such a prolonged time period. Ideally, less in an ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ way and more in an ‘I can finally look at you without wanting to kiss you numb’ way.

Realistically, he was prepared to miss Eddie and ache for him just the same.

Since it was his last night in town for a while, his friends insisted that they all have dinner at their favourite hole-in-the-wall. It was cozy and familiar, reminded Richie that he had people who cared for him deeply and thought about him when he wasn’t there.

When he noticed how much more Eddie was drinking than usual, he cut them both off and started sliding glasses of water towards him. Eddie just smiled at him dopily, his dimples pressing crescent moons into his flushed flesh.

Richie had spent the greater part of his lifetime staring at those dimples, poking them, flinging empty insults Eddie’s way as an excuse to see them. Just so he could sidle up to him later, ruffle his hair, and mumble out an apology against his cheek.

“C’mon, Eddie. Just a few more steps,” Richie breathed out, exhausted from supporting the majority of Eddie’s weight up the staircase.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Eddie slurred, but still cooperated for the rest of the journey to their shared apartment.

Richie kept one arm looped around Eddie’s waist, as he helped Eddie out of his tartan coat and lazily kicked off his own shoes. “Do you want me to take off your shoes?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I’m wearing them to bed."

Richie snorted and reached down to pull them off. He put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and guided him in the direction of his bedroom.

“Will you tuck me in?” Eddie asked, looking up at Richie with a pout.

Richie chuckled fondly, “Sure thing, princess.”

He found a pair of shorts and a threadbare shirt and handed it over to Eddie. He averted his eyes while he changed, only intervening when Eddie complained that he was stuck.

“Dude, stay still!” Richie begged, while struggling to maneuver Eddie’s flailing limbs through the arm holes.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Eddie said through a yawn.

“No, I’m not,” Richie agreed as he helped Eddie settle down on his bed. “I just don’t feel like going to the hospital and missing my flight, because you’ve somehow turned yourself into a human pretzel.”

Eddie hummed, his eyes lazily dragging over where Richie is crouched down next to him. He frowned, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Richie admitted, leaning forward to pull the covers over Eddie’s body.

Eddie shook his head, “You don’t get it.”

Richie paused, “Get what?”

Eddie stared at him, blinking slowly. Richie figured Eddie was out of it and needed to rest, so he dropped the subject.

He reached for the covers again, but was stopped by Eddie’s calloused hand on the side of his face. Eddie pulled him closer by the jaw and kissed him hard, nearly knocking their noses together in his drunken state. Richie kissed him back eagerly, breathing hotly into Eddie’s soft mouth, before realizing what he was doing.

“Eddie, baby, you’re drunk. We can’t,” Richie shook his head at himself for getting caught up in the moment. He pulled back regrettably, reaching down to squeeze Eddie’s wrist apologetically. He flinched when Eddie recoiled from his touch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, stubbornly keeping his eyes shut.

“No, don’t apologize-” Richie started, but paused when Eddie turned onto his side to face away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his words barely audible with how he buried his face in his pillow. “...didn’t mean to.”

Richie sighed, rising back to his feet. He stayed there until Eddie’s breath evened out with sleep.

The next morning, Eddie didn’t come out of his room. When Richie tried to open the door, he noticed that Eddie had gotten up to lock it sometime during the night.

He stayed in their living room for as long as he could before he was going to miss his flight. He considered leaving a note, but then he remembered the way his heart dropped when Eddie said he didn’t mean it. He figured that Eddie wanted to move past it, so he walked out.

The next time he got a hold of Eddie on the phone, neither of them mentioned it and that was that.

»»»

Richie feels like he’s been on auto pilot all day, allowing himself to be tugged into various directions and recycling the same soundbites to overly eager interviewers. His day blurs together, as most of his promotional days do, and he keeps checking his phone for a text from Eddie to no avail.

He had been sending random texts to Eddie all day, just anecdotes and hypotheticals that he knew Eddie would find amusing. The last time Eddie replied was a few hours ago, when he claimed that he was going to be unavailable for a while. Richie had scrunched his face in confusion at that, swiping through his photos app until he found the picture of Eddie’s schedule.

He had snapped a picture of the schedule, when he noticed it on their fridge a few days back. It was pinned down by a magnet shaped like the Golden Gate Bridge.

He zooms in on the photo and confirms that it’s Eddie’s day off. He’s not sure what Eddie’s doing, but figures he can ask him about it when he sees him tonight anyways. He’ll just interject it in between admitting that he’d like to kiss him again several times and marry him at some point.

He’s butchering the lyrics to the pop song his Uber driver had been playing on loop, when he returns to his hotel room. He still has some time left to nap before he has to head for the airport.

He continues humming as he leisurely shrugs off his jacket and shoes.

“You’d be the first one dead in a horror movie.”

Richie jumps at the unexpected, but familiar voice. He’s simultaneously excited and worried, when his eyes catch on Eddie’s form. “Fucking hell, dude!”

Eddie is sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over his lap neatly and Richie would almost think he looks completely at ease, if he didn’t know Eddie so well. Eddie’s hands are jittery and he’s subconsciously digging his fingernails into his knee. Richie walks over and grabs his hand, stilling his motions.

“Thanks,” Eddie says.

“Of course,” he returns.

Neither of them says anything else. They scrutinize each other for a minute, in which Richie manages to run through a wide range of emotions and worst case scenarios. He’s shell-shocked at the sight of Eddie in his hotel room. He was expecting to see him much later, preferably after he had showered and prepared a fucking speech or something.

He bites first, “How are you even here right now? You don’t talk to me all day and just hide out in my hotel room in Los Angeles?”

“I didn’t talk to you because I’m not a heathen and I actually abide by airplane mode,” Eddie states, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I use airplane mode now too!” Richie says defensively, then shakes his head in confusion. “Eddie, did you really come all the way to Los Angeles just to lecture me on this?”

Eddie splutters, “Obviously not! I came here because there’s been an elephant in the room for as long as I’ve known you and I’m sick of it. I can’t keep doing this, Richie. I’m so tired of acting like everything is normal between us, when it’s clearly not!”

Richie’s eyes widen at the exclamation and Eddie breaks their heated eye contact, deciding to pace around the room like he always does when he’s gathering himself.

“Eds, come back here,” Richie pleads. “I told you we’d talk about this when I came home! I promise I wasn’t going to let us run away from this again.”

He’s in the process of clenching and flexing his hands out, when he stops abruptly and heads back over to Richie.

“Eddie, I swear I wasn’t planning on dragging this out any longer. I wanted to tell you the truth when I got back,” Richie says honestly, meeting him halfway.

Eddie looks up at him, eyes unblinking, “Say it now then.”

Richie’s lips part, but the words won’t come out. His throat feels bone dry and he wants to scream at himself for letting the fear stunt him again.

Eddie’s eyes soften when he sees the way Richie’s bottom lip trembles. He takes another step closer, voice calmer, “Rich, I know we’ve both messed up a lot of times, but I need you to say something... Please. I initiated our kisses both times-”

Richie is quick to interject, “I fucked up when we were twelve, but you were the one who said it was a drunken mistake last time, so we’re technically even-”

“Richie!” Eddie looks exasperated. “One, you’re rude for interrupting me and two, did I not just establish that we’ve both been too fucking stupid to communicate with each other coherently?”

Richie nods his agreement sheepishly. They both feel the frustration dissolving in them and end up with matching expressions of rising amusement.

“I never regretted either of those kisses,” Richie answers truthfully. “I wish I could’ve told you how I felt after you kissed me the first time. I thought I’d be braver when the right time came, but when you kissed me again, I was caught off guard. You were drunk and I really thought you didn’t mean it.”

“I’ve always meant it,” Eddie reaches for his hand, soothing his thumb over Richie’s palm. “I convinced myself that you didn’t mean it, because I was scared I’d ruin everything.”

“You could never ruin anything, Eds.” Richie promises, gently placing his hand on the back of Eddie’s jaw.

He slots their mouths together, lips pressing against each other wantonly. He moans happily into the kiss, giving Eddie the opportunity to move their tongues together.

It’s hot and messy and everything he could ever want.

“Younger me would never believe that I got to have this one day,” Richie murmurs against his lips, pulling back to laugh a bit. “Let alone seconds after we fought about who was dumber.”

“It’s a draw,” Eddie laughs too, pecking him on the lips one more time just because he can. He steps on the tips of his toes to whisper in Richie’s ear. “I love you.”

Richie knows. He feels it in the way Eddie melts and comes alive again under his touch now that neither of them are hiding anymore. He knows this so definitively, but hearing it out loud sends a wave of euphoria worth twenty years of longing and hoping through his veins.

“I love you too,” Richie barely gets out before Eddie is on him again.

Kissing Eddie is his new favourite thing to do in the world, but he forces himself to pull back and vocalize the thoughts racing through his mind.

“Eddie, I like and love you a stupid amount. I like every single thing about you, even when you’re calling me a heathen,” Eddie giggles at that but Richie barrels on, unable to stop now that he knows the feeling is mutual. “I like you and I love you so fucking much all the time… and I just want to fucking kiss you again.”

“Then do it,” Eddie dares, bumping into him playfully.

Richie obliges, never one to say no to his boy.

»»»

Richie startles awake at one point during the night when he remembers that he forgot to text Steve that he ditched his flight. Eddie stirs in his arms at the sudden movement and Richie stills immediately, not wanting to disturb his sleep.

When he’s certain Eddie is sound asleep, he turns over carefully and snatches his phone off the bedside table.

_Richie (3:40):_ hey steve-o

 _Steve (3:43):_ Morning, Rich! What are you doing up at 6 am?

 _Richie (3:44):_ its actually 3 am here... i sorta didn’t make it to the airport. can u book me another flight for this afternoon pls?

 _Steve (3:50):_ Yes, but should I be concerned?

 _Richie (3:52):_ nooo I’m ok

 _Steve (3:54):_ If you say so. I’ll let you know when it’s booked.

 _Richie (3:55):_ thanks!! oh and i need 2 tickets

 _Steve: (3:56):_ Ah, so that’s why Eddie asked me for your hotel details.

 _Richie (3:57):_ isnt that a violation of my privacy ??

 _Steve (3:59):_ Everything I do is in your best interest. You’re welcome.

“Richie, ‘m cold,” Eddie grumbles, rolling over and draping his right arm over Richie protectively. He nestles his face against Richie’s neck and presses a chaste kiss against his Adam’s apple.

“It’s like 80 degrees. We literally have the AC on,” Richie points out, leaning back into Eddie’s embrace.

He’s never the small spoon, so he’ll seize this opportunity.

“I just missed you,” Eddie admits quietly.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispers, reaching for Eddie’s hand and bringing it up to his lips. He peppers kisses over the knuckles and calloused skin, “Can’t get rid of me now.”

»»»

The next morning finds Richie in front of the hotel bathroom mirror, singing the lyrics to “Friday, I’m in Love” by the Cure. Although singing is putting it generously, since he’s brushing his teeth at the same time.

He’s got a hot, tiny boyfriend who despises morning breath and is begging to be kissed. Sue him!

Eddie interrupts him in the middle of the chorus, coming up behind him and nosing against his back sleepily. “It’s not even Friday, loser.”

“I thought you’d be happy I was being proactive, but instead you choose to bully me,” Richie tries to look upset, but ultimately can’t keep the smile off his face when he sees the reflection of both of them in the mirror.

“I’m not bullying you, you’re just taking far too long,” Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches his side playfully.

Richie yelps, toothbrush falling from his grasp. Eddie simply winks at him.

He plants a soft peck on Richie’s cheek and grabs his hands, walking them both back to bed. “We only have an hour left.”

“Are you the pilot? You know we don’t have to be at the airport for another three hours right?” Richie chuckles, letting himself be pushed down on the bed. Eddie straddles him, his strong runner’s thighs locking him in place.

Richie thinks he should be a little bit self-conscious about his sleep-mussed waves or the goosebumps marking every stretch of skin that Eddie lightly traces. But Eddie is looking down at him through dilated eyes and Richie feels wanted, he feels seen. A mpan escapes Richie’s lips, when Eddie grounds his palm down against the front of his boxers.

“Just indulge me, will you?” Eddie whispers, leaning down so their faces are mere inches apart.

He takes in the sight of Eddie in all of his morning glory, with freckled skin baring the faintest scent of Richie’s cologne and sunlight painting his eyelashes gold.

He smiles at the sight of an Eddie Kaspbrak that has always been his.

“As you wish, Eds.” Richie says, happily closing the space between their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you think about reddie ‘secretly’ pining over each other for years before they both can’t take it anymore (conveniently) during the same week or are you normal? 
> 
> -A<3
> 
> p.s. i do realize that richie was supposed to check out of the hotel but decided to rail eddie instead and stay over for another night without talking to the front desk... and i think he should be allowed to do that!


End file.
